Here Without You
by Mrs Reaper Bones
Summary: A woman from our world finds herself in the Winchesters' world. How did she get there? How does she get home? But does she even want to go back? Dean/OC Sam/OC


Title: Here Without You

Author: Me

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: A woman from our world finds herself in the Winchesters' world. How did she get there? How does she get home? But does she even want to go back?

Spoilers: _Pilot, What Is and What Should Never Be, Crossroad Blues, All Hell Breaks Loose_

**Chapter One**

She woke up and immediately knew something wasn't right. She could tell by feel and sound that she wasn't in her own bed. Keeping her eyes closed, she listened intently to her surroundings and nearly fell out of the bed at what she heard.

"Sam!" An eerily familiar deep voice bellowed from behind the closed bedroom door. "Sammy!"

A different voice, also familiar, yet not as loud, answered the yelling. "Will you shut up? You're going to wake Rorie. And you know she'll kick your ass if you wake her up."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm worried about her. A man's got a right to be worried about his wife." The deep voice chuckled. "Besides, I can handle her."

The other voice spoke again, sounding full of skepticism and extreme amusement. "Oh really? I'll remind you of that the next time she takes you for everything but your pants in poker."

An aggravated snort, followed by, "Shut up, bitch."

"_You_ shut up, jerk."

Wife? What the hell? _Okay that does it_, she thought. _I'm awake now._

Sitting up, she took stock of her surroundings. Her earlier suspicions were dead bang on. Not only was this not her bed, it wasn't her bedroom, and she was willing to bet it wasn't her house she was in, either. Part of her was afraid to move for what else she would find out that didn't mesh with what she considered reality, but if her reality was screwed up, sitting there in someone else's bed wasn't going to fix anything.

Getting out of bed, she found she was wearing what appeared to be a man's grey t-shirt. As she headed for a door that she thought was either a bathroom or closet, she realized what she'd been thinking. "Someone else's bed," she muttered. "What the hell, am I friggin' Goldilocks or something?"

The door behind her slowly opened and an extremely familiar face, one that matched the deep bellowing voice, peeked inside the room.

"Ror, honey, you okay?"

She stopped cold. She realized he was talking to her. When she saw his face, the pieces started falling into place. The familiar voices, one of which was his. The name-calling…his calling out for Sam. _Sammy._ He called her Ror, which would be short for Rorie, and he and Sam had already made clear that Rorie was his wife. _She_ was his wife. She was _Dean's_ wife. _But that's not possible. _She looked up at him. She knew what the Winchester brothers did for a living. And if she was really in their world, then all bets were off and anything was possible. She shivered unconsciously, which caused the man clinging to the door to throw it open and walk briskly into the room.

"Sweetheart, you need to rest," he said, hands on her shoulders, his green gaze locked with hers.

She decided to test her theory. Putting her hands on his chest, she said, "Really, Dean, I'm fine." And she was. _Physically, anyway._

"Yeah well you were as sick as a dog yesterday. I was worried." He stroked her face lovingly.

"It was probably my allergies. Sometimes they can really get to me," she told him. _Well at least that was still true._

"But you were in pain," Dean told her, then chuckled. "Sam thought you had a toothache and wanted to take you to the dentist."

_Aha._ "_That_ was sinus crap, Dean. And yes, when my sinuses act up, I _really_ can feel like shit."

His hands moved from her shoulders to cup her face. The look in his eyes was so tender, so sweet, that her knees nearly buckled. _No one's ever looked at me like that before._

"You're sure you're alright now, though?"

"Yes, Dean, I feel fine. Now scoot before Sam finds you in here and accuses you of waking me up. I am not up to playing referee between you two. I need some serious coffee first before I can attempt that," she told him with a smile.

"I think I can manage that," Dean smiled back at her and then kissed her softly. "See you downstairs."

After Dean left, Rorie began opening doors and trying to figure out what was what and what was where. The door she had been headed to when Dean came in was indeed a closet…a massive walk-in closet, that, from the looks of things, she shared with Dean. Her things hung on the left, his on the right, and on the wall in front of her was a wall of drawers that she suspected held things like underwear and socks. Once she found some clothes, she opened the other door and discovered a full adjoining bathroom. She had no idea how long it had been since she'd been clean so she hopped in the shower and made sure of it.

Done with her shower, she toweled her hair vigorously enough to hang down her back without dripping and dressed in the clothes she'd found. She had to laugh when she saw the t-shirt she was now wearing. A white t-shirt with what had to be a collage made up of photos of Dean and the Impala. Grinning at her reflection she said, "Well that much is the same at least. He has the Impala, and I still think he and that car together are damned hot."

Continuing to nose around a bit she found makeup and put some on. She never took long to do her makeup, so when she was done, she looked at herself in the mirror. _Really_ looked at herself. "All right, Rorie Elizabeth, quit dawdling. You need information, and the only way you're going to get it is by leaving this room and going downstairs. Now move!"

As she left the bedroom, though, she muttered, "Yeah easy for you to say."

Walking down the stairs, she found the kitchen easily enough: by following the sound of Dean and Sam's bickering. She noted that the front door was to her right at the bottom of the stairs, the living room in front of her. Once on the ground floor, the kitchen was straight ahead, down a small hallway.

As she walked, she took a good look around at everything. From the knick-knacks that tastefully decorated the house, to the framed photos on the walls. She paid extra attention to those. A lot of them were ones you'd expect to see in a married couple's home. A few from their wedding. _Damn he looks good in a tux_, she couldn't help but think. Some with Sam in a graduation cap and gown with her and Dean flanking him. _He looks too old for it to be high school. Must be college._ A few more with Sam and a blonde woman. _Sam's girlfriend? Jess is alive?_ Curious now, she picked up a framed photo of Sam and the woman from a side table, and nearly dropped it in shock when she recognized the woman. It wasn't Jessica. It was…"_Rainey?_" she murmured. "Well if you're here in this screwy reality, at least I've got some company." She put the frame back on the table and continued to the kitchen, realizing that even though she was gathering much needed information about her new surroundings, she was also using the intel gathering process as a way of procrastinating. Taking a deep breath, she resolved to quit that, for a while at least, and enjoy herself. Who really knew what the explanation for all this was, anyway? It could be a really nice dream…or who knew what else infinitely worse. Besides, since she already knew what Dean and Sam were like and what they did, she knew she couldn't waltz into the kitchen and tell them she wasn't who they thought she was. She'd probably get a rock salt loaded shotgun in her face for her trouble. And if she was right and she _really _didn't belong here, then she was going to need their help to get back where she did belong. _Making them think you're something they should be hunting is definitely not the way to go about asking for help. That is, if they're even doing that here…now. For all I know Dean could be a tax accountant._ So she made a tentative plan to take some time and find out some things, explore her new world, and then try and talk to them…_at the opportune moment._ Although she wasn't totally sure she would recognize it when it appeared. Jack Sparrow she certainly was not.

She found them in the kitchen, and she also found that she really liked this kitchen. Lots of cabinets, lots of counter space, huge refrigerator…_ I could get to like it here_, she thought as her eyes took in all that, plus the sight of Dean and Sam on barstools at the island in the center of the room.

They both looked up at her approach, and Sam's face lit up when he saw her. "Hey little sister, feeling better?" He walked over and engulfed her in a bear hug.

_Damn he's tall_, she thought. She knew Sam was 6'4" but she'd forgotten what a huge difference it really was from her tiny 4'10". _Wait a minute, __**little**__ sister? What the hell? I'm older than both of them…or I was. _

She playfully pushed him off. "What do you mean, _little_?" Sam just looked at her. _Down_ at her. Then she got it. And glared back at him. "Shut up, jerk," she said, unconsciously echoing his and Dean's earlier mock fighting. Sam laughed and pointed at his brother, who snickered. "He's the jerk."

Dean got up and poured his wife a cup of coffee, adding cream and sugar to it before setting it on the island in front of her. Then he put his arms around her from behind and kissed her cheek. "Good morning, sweetheart."

Raising an eyebrow at Sam she said, "Oh? Doesn't sound like a jerk to me."

Behind them, the front door opened and an alto voice growled, "I've told you before, Dean Winchester, don't call him a bitch!"

Sam's girlfriend and Rorie's best friend, Eraina, walked into the kitchen and over to Sam, sliding her arm around his waist. "I suppose that'd be you, then?" Dean asked Eraina.

Rorie balled up a fist and sent it straight into his gut, causing him to grunt. "Don't you call my best friend names! I don't call your best friend names, do I?" _Huh. Valid question,_ she thought, wondering just who Dean's best friend really was.

"No, because you know I'd spank your butt if you did," he grinned at her before kissing her on the nose.

Rorie gave him a weird look. "And why is that?"

"Because that is what I told you I was gonna do to you if I ever caught you pulling that pity party bullshit again," he explained.

"Omigod, TMI, Dean…really!" Eraina laughed, throwing her arm across Rorie's shoulders. "I think what he's trying to say here is _you're_ his best friend, hon."

"Oh." Rorie paused to think about that for a second. It made her so giddy she thought her head would spin. _He loves me. Dean Winchester loves me._

Taking a swig of her coffee to cover herself, she looked at the other three. "So what is on the agenda today?"

Rorie sat behind the wheel of Dean's 1967 Chevy Impala and grinned at her husband's discomfort. "Friggin' technology…I should shoot that thing," he grumbled.

"Hey…if I remember right rules are the driver picks the music and shotgun shuts his cakehole…only in your case that'd be pie hole, wouldn't it, honey?" she replied, a little too sweetly. In the backseat Sam snickered. They all were well aware of how much Dean loved pie.

She spun the dial on the silver 160 GB iPod classic and opened up the playlist she'd created. Dean just couldn't shut up…he had to get one more word in. "Just…do me one favor."

"What?" she said as she scrolled through the list of songs.

"No Backstreet Boys," he said pleadingly. Sam cracked up laughing and Rorie just rolled her eyes. Glancing in the rearview mirror she caught Rainey's gaze. "Shut up jerk!" they both yelled at him.

"No seriously, Dean, you'll like most of the stuff on here," she said as she found the song she wanted and pressed _play_. Loud guitar suddenly filled the car as Def Leppard's _Wasted_ began to play.

Once they were on the road, she brought up her earlier question again. "So what are we doing today?"

"Teaching you how to shoot, that's what," Sam replied from the backseat.

"Me? Why?"

"Because I want to know you're safe, that's why," Dean said from the front seat.

Rorie began to wonder if there wasn't more to it than that, but she wasn't going to push for more of an explanation than Dean wanted to give. At least not now.


End file.
